


Memories

by Ifwecansparkle



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Character Near-Death, Gen, Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifwecansparkle/pseuds/Ifwecansparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written because I have a lot of headcanons about the friendship between Michael and Six, and I wanted to explore them in a fic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I have a lot of headcanons about the friendship between Michael and Six, and I wanted to explore them in a fic.

_Race you to the library! On your mark, get set--_

Wait, which one?

_Doesn't matter! GO!_

He is on autopilot, going faster than he has ever gone before and he doesn't know why, except that Annie is on the phone crying, and it's _Annie_.

"Michael, I need you to come to the hospital. It's Peter. He was in an accident--"

She's still on the line, but he hasn't heard anything she has been saying for the past ten minutes. Which is about how long it has taken to make the drive.

Give or take a few traffic laws.

_Hey there guys, don't run in the house, okay?_

_Rabbit says we can!_

_Ex-actly. Can't have you getting hurt now, can we?_

"Annie--Annie, I'm pulling in now, so I'm gonna hang up on you. I'll be in soon. Meet me in the waiting room, okay?" He hangs up his cell phone and puts the car into park and releases a profane tirade that he never wants her to hear. It's just that this can't be happening. Not now. Peter is his age, and they are both too young for this. They have already hashed out dreams and plans, on lazy summer afternoons when the _days_ seemed to last forever, and lifetimes seemed like just that: lifetimes. 

_What do you wanna be when you grow up?_

_An inventor, of course._

_of course?_

_They named me Peter Walter didn't they?_

_That doesn't mean anything. I dunno what I'm gonna be._

_Sure you do. You're gonna be a Mister Reed. Just like you're daddy's a Mister Reed, and I'm gonna be a Peter Walter just like my daddy's a Peter Walter._

_And we'll still be best friends, right?_

_Of course._

Peter has always been so sure of who he is and what he's going to do--which is funny because his head is so full of it that he can never remember dinner time, or to match his socks, or what day of the week it is. But he knows that he is going to do something big, and Michael is pretty sure he hasn't done it yet.

He presses his forehead against the steering wheel and cries, because he knows that if he doesn't do it here he'll break down on Annie's shoulder when he gets inside, and she doesn't need that now.

_Mama, Michael had a nightmare. Will you come and sing to him like you sing to me?_

When he has finally cried enough, he gets out of the car and walks into the hospital with stiff limbs. He wonders if this is what it's like to be a robot.

Annie is waiting for him, and he can tell she's tried to cry herself out, too. "Thanks for coming," she says, wrapping her arms around him. He's twice her size, but as usual it feels like she's hugging him. Annie has a way of doing that.

"Don't thank me. Of course I came. How is he?" He watches tears pool in her eyes, but they don't spill over.

_Hush little baby don't you cry_

"Not good. The doctors have him stabilized, but he's in ICU. They say we'll be lucky if he m-makes it through the night."

"Oh God. What happened?" He holds his breath as she shakes her head.

"We're not sure. A lab accident of some kind...of course," she summons something that might pass for an ironic laugh. "Everything was fine and then suddenly there was an--an explosion from the laboratory." He feels sick.

"Is everyone else okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Everyone is fine," her face crumbles, "Oh God, Michael..."

_Mama's gonna sing you a lullaby_

"Shh, shh..." He soothes, wrapping his arms around her again. He thinks maybe they both end up crying a little more. Finally she pulls away and sniffles.

"The doctors said family could go back there. For a--a few minutes."

"Have you?"

"No, I-I can't. I just--I should, but I can't," he thinks she is on the verge of tears again, so he puts a hand on her shoulder, "Why don't you go back there, if to want?"

"Annie, I'm not family. You know that," he watches a stern look appear on her face.

"You're like another son to me. If you're not family I don't know who is."

_Mama, Rabbit and Th' Spine and Th' Jon are brothers but they aren't from the same family. They don't even have a family._

_Hush, Peter. Of course they do. We're their family._

_No, what I mean is, does that make Michael and I brothers?_

_If you like, then yes. Some family you're born with. Some family you choose._

He nods. She gives him the room number and he takes the elevator up four floors, afraid of what he'll find.

_I'll hide and you count to one hundred._

_Why do I always have to count?_

He finds the room and swallows and enters without knocking and almost loses his lunch.

Because it's not Peter. It can't be. The body is battered beyond recognition, and Michael can't see his face because it's covered in bandages. He freezes in the doorway, but finally manages to step in. Pulling up a straight-backed chair, he sits and speaks around a lump in his throat. "H-hey, Pete."

_Don't call me Pete. My name's Peter._

_Yeah? Well your Mama calls you Petey._

_Yeah? Well shut up._

"Hey, Pete. You. Ah. God, you're an idiot," he runs a hand through his hair and tries to come up with the correct thing to say, in case Peter can hear him, "Okay, um, I know you've never listened to me before, but listen to me now. You can't do this. You just can't. All that stuff you told me you were going to do? You haven't done it yet."

_Hey Pete? You ever think about HatchWorth?_

_The old bot in storage? Yeah, what about him?_

_You ever think about, ya know, fixing him?_

_If I find Peter I's schematics, I'll let you know._

_Maybe we don't need Peter I's schematics. Maybe you could figure it out. Or, you know...me._

_You? Don't be stupid._

_Thanks._

_I just mean, if anyone figures it out it's gonna be me._

_Oh yeah? You're on._

"So, you know, you've still got a bet to win. Don't think I'm going to let you forget that. Besides, everyone needs you. Your mom needs you. The--The robots need you. Especially Rabbit. You know how he gets. And I need you, too. I mean. I know we've had our differences, but--doesn't mean I don't need you."

_Do you remember the time my dad told us about Becile?_

_Sure. Why?_

_We'll never--I mean, they were best friends. We'll never--_

_Why do I get the feeling I'm Becile here?_

_No, I just mean. Promise me, Michael._

_I promise._

"I'm keeping my end of the promise. I expect you to be around to keep yours."

He is startled by a sound in the corridor.

"Listen, Pete. They'll be throwing me out pretty soon, so I'm gonna go now. I'll be back later. I'll leave the door open. I know you aren't much on doors. Just--ah. Do me a favor and get well, okay?" He stands and strides purposefully to the door, then pauses and looks back. "I can't wait to see your face again."


End file.
